


One Last Look

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Other, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, worst case scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harold's laptop sits open beside him, bold text announcing SHUTDOWN FAILED.</i>
</p><p>(Spoilers for everything, particularly the main season trailer. A scene from 5x02 inspired this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Look

It's dark. The Samaritan warehouse is lit dimly by blinking blue and white lights, rows upon rows of giant humming metal cases.

 

In the middle of it all, a small puddle of weak light illuminates the face of the Machine's creator. Harold's laptop sits open beside him, bold text announcing SHUTDOWN FAILED. That's not good enough, he's the last one left, he has to...but he can't.

 

He has been nursing the wound in his abdomen for days now. Harold clumsily shot his way in here, jamming the Samaritan agents' phone signals every time they tried to call for backup. He has repeatedly carried out every trick he knows for terminating AI, and he's an expert, he has killed forty-three of them. Samaritan will not die. It is simply too powerful, too smart for him.

 

Finch taps stiffly at the keyboard. He pleads with the Machine.

 

"Show me Grace," he whispers, brokenly.

 

A window opens onscreen. Grace is safe in Italy, whiling her afternoon away, humming to herself at her easel, paintbrush in hand.

 

She doesn't turn in the direction of the camera, her face only partially visible. He has almost forgotten what she looks like.

 

Finch lets go of the gaping hole in his waistcoat to stroke the screen.

 

A faint smear of blood coats the image of Grace's red hair. His hand drops, falling off to the side, head lolling back against the server behind him, out of breaths.

 

On the screen, the Machine asks, slightly panicked: FATHER?


End file.
